Disease, Imprisonment, Isolation
by Hinata Plusle
Summary: Taking care of an ill person isn't just about giving them food, medicine and treatment. As time goes by, it can imprison the caretaker as much as the ill one. AU with uncertain place and time, written for Nordipalooza 2014. Prompt: Fever. No pairings. Warning for character death and mentions of blood.


Human names. Denmark is Simon, Norway is Børre, Iceland is Emil. Character death. Possible trigger warning: mentions of blood.

Enough talking. On with the story.

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**Disease, Imprisonment, Isolation**

It was a foggy, still cold spring morning. The thick fog made it hard to see further than a mile from the village. A chilly wind blew through the woods, making it the perfect day to stay at home by the fireplace. However, there was a huge commotion, and everybody seemed to be in a hurry.  
>Tino watched it from his usual seat by the window with close attention until he felt someone tug onto his shirt. Said "someone" was Simon, the man he had been assigned to take care. Despite his usual cheery smile, Tino could feel the worry in the man's voice:<br>"Something up out there?"  
>Timo looked back at the window and answered:<br>"People seem a bit agitated. Kinda uneasy. I'll ask what happened when I go get us food. Do you want it now?"  
>"Yeah, gotta stuff something into my stomach while I can keep it down. Fix me some milk if you can, will you?"<br>"I'll see what I can do."  
>Tino stared at the people outside for a few more seconds until he got up and left wordlessly. Simon soon fell asleep, awoken only several minutes later by the sound of steps - Tino's very own clumsy, slow steps. The short man not that soon was at the doorstep of his room, carrying a half empty glass of milk with a hand and trying to balance himself with the other. Approaching Simon, he held up the glass and said:<br>"It was hard finding your milk. I had to give up some bread for it. Try not to puke it later. Here it is."  
>Simon raised his hands to take the glass, but they were shaking severely. Tino sighed and pulled it closer to himself.<br>"Never mind, you can't grip it. Let me feed you."  
>If glares could kill, Tino would be dead by now.<br>"I know it hurts your pride, but I really don't wanna waste this milk."  
>Simon stared for a few seconds then sighed and let his arms fall to his side.<br>"You could at least let me touch the glad and pretend I'm holding it."  
>"You'd certainly feel even worse later, Simon. And with your 'help', I might end up dropping the glass."<br>Simon pouted, but let himself be fed.  
>When he was finished, Tino ate his own portion of food, which was in fact only a few pieces and crumbles of bread, then motioned for Simon to sit up so he could change clothes. However, the taller, yet ill man wasn't able to comply, suddenly hit by a coughing fit. Tino approached in an attempt to help him, but as soon as he touched Simon's forehead, he realized he had a fever.<br>"For Pete's sake, Simon! You're burning!"  
>Tino hurried to a corner to get cool water and damped a cloth, then went back to Simon's side and put it on his forehead.<br>"Seriously, why won't you tell me you're not feeling well…"  
>Simon tried to answer between coughs, but his attempts would only make him worse.<br>"Now, don't try answering now. Wait till you're better."  
>Simon spat blood between coughs.<br>Tino, as a healer, knew it was no good. However, he kept quiet about it, as he knew it wouldn't help.

Simon fell asleep immediately after he stopped coughing. Tino was now really worried. He had been expecting the taller man to just have a really bad cold, but the blood had signaled a way worse disease, which could only be treated with plants that grew during late summer – and Tino had never seen anyone survive it for longer than three months without medication.  
>All he could do was hope his friend would survive for longer than anyone he'd seen before. He was as sure as hell that he didn't want Simon to die, much less now that…<br>Never mind, it wasn't worth mentioning now.  
>Simon woke up a few hours later, hungry again. It was almost sunset anyway, Tino wordlessly went out to get their supper.<br>It looked as though Simon wanted to ask what had been going on, but since he didn't, Tino did not mention it at all.

Summer came. Simon was getting worse every single day, but had already outlived Tino's most optimistic previous expectations. Tino now had hope that he'd endure long enough for him to be able to make some medicine for him. His fevers were sparse, but they were getting more and more frequent.  
>As his health would slowly but surely slip away, Simon would speak less and less.<br>In other words, Tino hadn't been expecting to be asked what he had just been asked.  
>"What happened during spring? Why haven't Børre and Berwald sent any messages? Last time I got sick, they'd never stop sending messages, even if they weren't really warm."<br>Tino did not want to talk about that topic.  
>"Why are you suddenly asking this?"<br>Simon raised an eyebrow.  
>"You're not hiding their messages from me, are you?"<br>"What advantage would I take from that?"  
>"Dunno, and you still haven't answered my question."<br>Tino bit his lip. He did not want to tell, but had to.  
>"Børre and Berwald are off to war, Simon. They've been away since the snow started melting. That's why they haven't sent messages."<br>Simon did not speak a single word for days.

Turns out that summer was disastrous.  
>It didn't rain. The herbs Tino needed didn't grow.<br>Simon never even got to know there was a herb which could cure his disease.

During early autumn, citizens were forbidden to visit Simon and interact for longer than a minute with Tino, as the sick man would spit more and more blood and his caretaker would appear with his shirt stained more and more often. Not that it changed much: Simon had had absolutely no visits until then.

"Who's taking care of Børre's brother, now that he's away?"  
>Simon's voice echoed through the scarcely furnitured room. Outside, the sound of children's steps on fallen leaves, their voices and a bird could be heard.<br>"He's at Berwald's home. Been using Berwald's room, actually, since he won't be back so early."  
>Simon did not answer for a few minutes, leaving an eerie silence inside the room, interrupted only by Simon's occasional coughs.<br>"You know, don't you feel left behind?"  
>Tino raised an eyebrow.<br>"About what?"  
>"Børre and Berwald have left to war, but we haven't. You know very well I'm more experienced than Berwald at swordfighting and you've got much wider knowledge as a healer than Børre."<br>Tino thought a bit before answering:  
>"Well, Simon, I've more or less accepted it. I fulfilled my duty protecting baby Emil some years ago, but that cost me a leg, as you know. And without my right leg, I'm not only useless during war, I can slow down my friends. I know it can't be helped. I don't want anybody else to get hurt."<br>Simon sighed.  
>"You talk as if it were easy to accept..."<br>As he was dampening a cleaner cloth to put on Simon's forehead, Tino answered.  
>"You're not permanently handicapped like me, Simon. You can recover, get up and walk away as if nothing had happened."<br>"You talk like I really could get better. I know I won't survive, Tino."  
>Tino didn't sat anything in response. For hours, the only sound heard in that room besides Simon's labored breath was his own coughing.<p>

Winter came.  
>Simon's fever never left him now. Tino would frequently change the dampened cloth on his forehead, but it wouldn't help. He'd cough all day long, and his sheets would be permanently stained with blood - Tino couldn't really wash them as quickly as they'd get round red and sometimes black stains of varied width, specially with the shortage of water that came with that season of the year.<br>His appetite was severely affected, and so were his strength and mood. He'd rarely speak more than 10 words a day.  
>Tino barely recognised the man in front of him.<p>

Simon passed away. It was mid-winter.  
>Tino went back to living with common citizens. He'd spend a lot of time with Emil, trying not to think much about the tall now deceased man, and attempting to convince himself that Simon had been lucky to survive for so long.<br>Børre and Berwald, along with many other men, came back a week after snow started melting. Tino refused to give the bad news himself, but was there when they were delivered.  
>Never before had he seen the two shed tears, even though they hid them very well.<br>In fact, never after either. He ended up catching Simon's disease.

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This was written ages ago for Nordipalooza 2014. It's a Human AU with uncertain time and place, and the prompt was "Fever".

I hope everyone who's read this likes it. Please review and let me know what you think.


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